After nearly 20+ years of marriage, it was easy for Michele to notice the nuances of Franco's behavior. She could practically see the stress pulsing beneath his veins. Despite the support they got from the so called Four Flag Gang, Franco often came home late at night, discouraged, despaired.
Of course he never spoke of this to Michele. In Franco's mind they were still living in Italy, where big Sicillian women bustled through the kitchen, tending to their husbands and their pots of simmering tomato sauce.
Michele had long ago given up on making an American out of Franco. With slender, deft fingers she wove their lives together as best as she could, creating stability, a home. The smell of savory coffee alone was enough to relax Franco's nerves, to give him a sense of stability. Even here, thousands of miles from his birthplace, there was home.
He lingered a moment at the door, lost in his head, collecting his thoughts. His home was a completely different world f